


(Im)patience is a virtue

by hypernomad



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-29
Updated: 2014-03-29
Packaged: 2018-01-17 10:05:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1383490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hypernomad/pseuds/hypernomad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mickey's a lot of things, but patient isn't one of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(Im)patience is a virtue

The last thing Ian expects to find when he steps out of the bathroom following his after-work shower is Mickey lying stark-naked in the mess of their bed sheets, his head titled back, eyes closed and his lips parted as he pants and moans softly. His dick is pressed against his stomach and Ian can see his tattooed fingers working between his legs slowly.

Smirking, Ian steps into the room and drops the towel from around his waist. “I thought you were working a double tonight.”

Mickey’s eyes open softly and he looks at Ian invitingly. “I didn’t feel like sticking around.” He says, his voice a gravelly, soft hum travelling across their small, dimly-lit bedroom.

Ian smiles and kneels on the end of the bed, crawling over to the older boy before stopping to lean over him from the side. “Couldn’t wait to get home, huh?” Ian whispers, before placing his mouth over Mickey’s and kissing him deeply.

After a few minutes, Mickey pulls away and spreads his legs wide for Ian to settle between them. Ian trails a few kisses down Mickey’s neck and the brunet sighs, tilting his head back on the pillow and moaning as kisses turn to bruising bites and licks. With a groan, he pulls Ian in for another kiss and runs his hands through the soft, damp red curls at the back of Ian’s head and pushes him back to straddle his hips without breaking contact.

Pulling away for a moment, Ian breathes against the older boy’s neck. “Did you prep yourself already?” He asks, reaching down and squeezing his ass, spreading his cheeks wide and running his middle finger over his slightly slick entrance.

Smirking and planting another peck on his mouth, Mickey nods and reaches for the lube on the nightstand. He squeezes some out on his hand and rubs it over Ian’s dick a few times, delighting in the sharp hiss Ian lets out. With a short laugh that tumbles out of him, Mickey pulls his hand away and shuffles around until Ian’s lined up.

With a shared moan, Ian slides in slowly and Mickey lets out a long, low groan as he’s fully seated. He plasters himself to Ian’s chest and arches his back, rotating and grinding his hips until the initial pain of being breached fades away.

Biting his lip, Ian groans and pushes his hips up and down a few times and Mickey pants above him, feeling the funny queasy sensation melt away. Eventually, they settle into a rhythm and Mickey presses his face close to Ian’s as they pant into the damp, hot space between them and their noses bump together. Ian places a kiss on Mickey’s mouth and pants through his nose, their teeth clashing together as the passion builds gradually.

With a grunt, Mickey furrows his brow and straightens up so he can impale himself on Ian’s dick properly. He lets out a sharp moan that turns into a series of grunts as Ian’s dick knocks against his prostate and he closes his eyes in concentration, focussing on getting the angle just right so it happens on every thrust.

Ian can only take a few minutes of this; he would be coming in no time at all at the sight of Mickey riding him so intently. So he places both palms flat on his back and leans up to kiss him deeply, sliding his tongue into his mouth and gripping tighter so he can gently roll them over until Mickey’s flat on his back beneath him. Mickey lets out a noise close to a whimper as Ian begins thrusting into him harder than before, the headboard knocking against the wall behind them, and he wraps his legs tightly around his middle. His arms tangle around Ian’s shoulders and neck and Ian’s hands are grasping at his sweaty thighs as their flesh slaps together soundly, his heels digging into Ian’s lower back.

With a grunt, Ian leans up to brace himself on his arms, his hands pressing into the mattress either side of Mickey’s body and he begins slamming his hips harder and harder into him. The pace doesn’t change; it’s rhythmic and just right and Mickey’s moaning and jerking himself off at the sight of Ian towering above him with an expression of complete ecstasy on his face.

“Oh, fuck, deeper,” Mickey pants out, his voice throaty and desperate.

Ian looks down at him with a smirk and bats his hand away to cover his dick with his own, tugging on it a few times before Mickey suddenly hauls him back down against his body in a moment of pre-orgasmic fervour and lets out a beautiful noise as the friction from Ian’s abdomen and the relentless stimulation of his prostate finally pushes him over the edge. The younger man grins and he picks up his pace to join him in that moment, moaning loudly and then groaning out Mickey’s name a few times as he spills himself inside him at almost the same moment.

Mickey moans and lets out a breathless laugh as he comes down from his intense climax, watching Ian’s face as the redhead leans up on his hands again and closes his eyes with a smile before opening them again blearily. After a few moments of recovery, Ian pulls out and reaches for a few tissues on the nightstand and tosses them at Mickey before he collapses on the bed beside him.

Mickey cleans them up lazily before rolling them up into a ball and throwing them into the waste paper basket by the bed. When he settles back on the mattress, he turns to lay on his side and plasters himself against the redhead. Ian sighs and wraps an arm around Mickey’s shoulder and they lay like that for a few minutes, their sweaty skin sticking together a bit.

“I told you this mattress was worth a few extra bucks.” Mickey says quietly after short silence.

Ian smiles and pulls him a little closer. “Why’s that?” He asks.

“It’s all springy.” Mickey says quietly, bouncing a little to prove his point.

“Hn.” Ian replies, smirking and stroking Mickey’s back gently. “So why didn’t you stay to do the extra shift?”

“Kyle’s girlfriend got shitfaced and decided to jump off a swing last night. She broke her leg and ended up needing four pins. He needed the money ‘cause she doesn’t have health insurance, so I gave him his shift back.” Mickey explains, trailing his fingertips over the barely-there stubble on Ian’s chest.

“I see.” Ian whispers. “How was work, anyway?”

“Eh. Same old shit.” Mickey replies.

“Austin still bein’ a douchebag about that fight last week?”

“I think he’s finally starting to pull his head out of his ass and realise that you can’t run a bar in the South Side and expect there to never be a single fight.”

“Isn’t that why you hire bouncers in the first place?” Ian asks, lazily drawing a circle on Mickey’s shoulder blade.

“Obviously. What do people even do on the North Side?” He asks, furrowing his brow. “It’s weird, man.”

Ian chuckles and breathes in the minty smell of Mickey’s hair gel where his nose is buried in his hair.

“How was the gym, anyway?” Mickey asks after a few moments.

“It was alright. The maintenance guys finally came to fix the heater in the sauna so we’ll probably be seeing an influx of creepy old dudes again.”

“Yeah, well, don’t go getting any ideas.” Mickey snaps.

“Nah.” Ian says with a laugh. “I’m good. I think my sugar daddy phase is over.”

“Good.” Mickey replies.

It’s quiet for a short while and Mickey’s tracing shapes on Ian’s chest when he realises that it’s kind of cold now, so he pulls the comforter over them both and burrows himself closer to Ian’s side.

“I don’t get what you saw in them in the first place. Nothin’ but a bunch of crusty-ass sacks of loose skin… ugh.” He mutters, shuddering. When Ian doesn’t reply, he glances up to see him sound asleep, his chest rising and falling rhythmically. Smiling, Mickey plants a kiss on his jaw and settles down to sleep too.

“Freak.” He sighs, his face half-buried in the crook of Ian’s neck.


End file.
